


Cutting A Deal

by FoxyPrince



Series: Making Ends Meet [2]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Fingering, Choking, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Gloves, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostitution, Rentboys, Teasing, Threats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:29:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyPrince/pseuds/FoxyPrince
Summary: Akechi pays a visit to his local rentboy. But he has a special request to make.





	Cutting A Deal

Rain was coming down steadily from the quickly darkening sky. The last train would soon be leaving the station, but the weather had not been particularly conducive to business. The lack of income had Mishima hesitating under the awning of a long-closed convenience store. The end of the month was nearing quickly, and he was still fairly short on next month’s rent. He wondered for the thousandth time what he had done wrong for his manager at the thrift shop to cut his hours so drastically last week.

He reached into his jacket pocket and fished out his half-empty pack of cigarettes and his lighter. As he brought the butt of the cigarette up to his lips, he noticed the uneven shake of his hand and wondered if it was because of the cold or because he hadn’t eaten yet. The first drag was a long one, and it burned his lungs, but he was grateful for it. The smoke trailed aimlessly from his lips into the cold November air. He checked his phone for the time, wishing for just one more. He didn’t want to have to try to hustle so many clients the next day. Even just one more before the last train home would help him so much.

Mishima was quickly reaching the end of his smoke when he noticed an odd figure amidst the sparse drunken couples and employees on their way home from the late shift. The man was coming down his side of the street with his hood up and sunglasses over his eyes despite the cloud cover and time of day. He walked swiftly with his head down and his hands in the pocket of his blue hoodie, exuding a strong aura of _fuck-off_. The fact the he was definitely walking directly towards him certainly unnerved Mishima. He tried to avoid eye contact and seem uninterested, all the while praying the man wasn’t going to try to sell him drugs or something.

“I have an offer to make you, Mishima Yuuki.”

“Wh-what?” Mishima was stunned when the oddly suspicious man not only spoke to him, but also addressed him by name. “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think we’ve ever personally met before, but I’ve been looking into you for a little while,” the man answered evenly, reaching up to remove his sunglasses. Mishima’s jaw went slack.

“I take it you know who I am, at least?”

Akechi Goro was standing in front of him, incognito, late in the evening, and… smirking? Mishima’s mind raced to a hundred conclusions as he blinked dumbly in response.  
“Would you be interested in making a little extra money tonight, Mishima-kun?” he lilted softly, drawing out each syllable of his name just enough to mesmerize the shorter boy. Of course the words “money” and “extra” together in a sentence certainly helped hold his attention, and he couldn’t help but wonder how much “extra” was to a guy like Akechi.

“What sort of deal, exactly? A-and how much money?” Mishima was a very easily persuaded man, but he was still highly suspicious of Akechi just because of who he was. It would take one hell of a deal for him to comply. He took a final hit from his cigarette before flicking the butt onto the pavement.

“I want you for the night. Alone in my apartment. I would be willing to pay double your normal service-fee for the trouble, of course.” Mishima’s eyes went wide, though he doubted the sincerity of the other man’s offer. Why would someone like him - practically an _idol_ to the public - be looking to spend his money for a quick fuck with some high-school loser like him? Something was suspicious.

“Service-fee? I don’t think I know what you’re talking about,” he replied, looking Akechi up and down. Surely the cops didn’t send him to try to bust Mishima’s little “business.” They ought to be far too busy going after the Phantom Thieves to be paying attention to petty crimes in a red light district. Still, he wasn’t going to take any chances. Just in case.

Akechi sighed, a scowl replacing the normally so perfectly manicured smile he usually wore. He looked around surreptitiously, checking the road and the alley for signs that someone might be paying more attention to the pair than they should be.

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” he started, but when he realized how upset he sounded, he took a deep breath and set his smile back in place.

“Mishima. Please. Don’t be coy with me. I know for a fact that you need extra cash to make rent every month. I know that you come to this exact spot in Shinjuku three times a week - Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday evenings. And I know, for a fact, that you take men - several a night sometimes - into this back alleyway and _let them fuck you for cash_.”

Mishima froze, terror stricken. He could do nothing but meet Akechi’s intense stare with a frightened one of his own.

“So. For the sake of saving time, let’s skip to the bargaining. My apartment for the night for twice your normal rate. Yes or no?”

His head was reeling; this was real. Akechi Goro was propositioning him for sex. He had no idea how to react, but he knew if he didn’t say something soon, the other was likely to just leave. He cleared his throat and straightened his jacket, biding his time while he thought of a response.

“Um… Okay… I’ll do it. But I need the money up front, and I need to know exactly what you’re planning. For example, how are we getting to and from your apartment? And when will I be leave tomorrow? You can’t just ask me to say yes or no with so little information…” He coughed awkwardly and tried to sink further into his jacket away from the biting wind.

Akechi had the gall to laugh. It was a tinkling, light thing; it made Mishima uncomfortable.

“I would have you back here by eight-thirty tomorrow morning. To this exact spot, of course. You can find your own way home from here, I would assume?” He paused for Mishima to huff an indignant ‘yes,’ “And my driver knows to keep his mouth shut. He’ll take us where we need to go. Is that all you wanted to know?” Akechi looked at him innocently, as if he had only been talking about the weather or something equally mundane. Mishima scratched the back of his neck anxiously. He still didn’t trust the brunet, but it was a good deal. It’s not like he would really be missing out on any other business on a night like tonight, anyway. Sighing, he realized he had nothing to lose.

“That’s all, I guess... “

“Wonderful. My driver is waiting just up the road a bit. This way,” he gestured for Mishima to follow him, and they started down the road together.

The walk was quiet. All of the general rabble had made their way home; the only people still left on the streets were people Mishima hoped he never got too close to. The wind had really picked up and the rain was still trickling steadily out of the clouds. It was far too cold out for the flimsy little jacket he had picked this morning to keep him warm. He pulled up his hood to protect his head slightly from the damp. He hoped the car was not much farther.

It was a just a little while later that Akechi stepped off the sidewalk next to a silver car. He opened the rear passenger door and smiled reassuringly at the smaller boy. Mishima mumbled a ‘thank you’ as he brushed past the detective to take his seat. Akechi quickly made his way around the back of the back of the car to slide into the seat next to him. Without a word, the driver started the car and pulled off.

Once they were moving, Mishima pulled his phone out to shoot a quick text to Akira.

[Hey, man.]  
[Got an odd customer tonight.]  
[Can you call me around 8:30 tomorrow morning to make sure I’m still alive?]

He put his phone down and stared out the window while he waited for a response. He considered Akechi’s silence a blessing as he was unsure of how to interact with the young detective. While he seemed nice enough, something about him just… unsettled the boy. It was like he could hear what he was saying, but the true, underlying meaning eluded him. The boy spoke in riddles.

[Yeah, man. I gotcha.]  
[Be careful, Mishima.]

As soon as he felt his phone buzz, he slid the lockscreen open. He smiled at Akira’s response. When he looked up from his phone, the car was pulling into a parking garage.

“Don’t worry, we won’t have to get back out in the rain; there’s an awning between buildings.” It was the first thing he had said since they left Shinjuku, and it startled Mishima out of his thoughts. He tried to shoot Akechi a smile in response, but the other was already getting out of the car. The driver had stopped before sliding his card at the gate so the two boys would not have to walk from farther in the garage. Once they were clear of the car, the driver proceeded forward to park.

Akechi placed a hand on his back to lead him to the entrance of the apartment complex, and it stayed on him until they were in the elevator. It was another silent ride, and Mishima wondered if the other was always so quiet. He certainly didn’t seem the shy type on television, at least. The elevator dinged softly upon their arrival to Akechi’s floor, and they disembarked when the doors slid open. There was another short walk to his door and a moment while he unlocked and opened it.

Finally, he spoke up as the door swung shut, “This is my home. What do you think..?”

It was… nice. It was fully furnished with a couch, television, and several bookshelves. An end table beside the couch had a small stack of magazines on it. It, for all intents and purposes, was a very nice home. However, it was just so… clean. It almost felt surgical. Mishima wondered if Akechi was ever even here.

“It’s quite clean, Akechi-san,” he answered softly, turning to face him.

“Thank you.” Akechi was still lingering near the door. He almost seemed… nervous?

“Ah, I have a request for you, Mishima-kun. Follow me?” As soon as the thought occurred to him, the other boy was on the move again. It made it hard to really read him, which made Mishima nervous. He had memorized the way back to the lobby, just in case.

He followed Akechi to a spacious bedroom. It had yet another bookshelf, a large bed with a deep purple comforter, and a few sparse decorations. It was still far too tidy; the bed looked new, unslept in. He figured this would be as far as he would lead him, but Akechi was standing next to a bathroom door. Mishima approached him with a questioning look.

“I’d like to extend my shower to you. You are, of course, welcome to any of my soaps or shampoos.Upon seeing that the confusion had still not left Mishima’s face, he leaned closer and continued, “Clean yourself. You smell like a _whore_.”

Akechi leaned away, smile still firmly in place, and turned to leave, but before he made it through the bedroom door, he turned to add one final thing.

“Don’t bother putting your dirty clothes back on, either. I will lay something much nicer out for you.” Despite the kind connotation of the words he spoke, venom was still present in his tone. Mishima could only awkwardly nod after him as he ducked around the doorframe and disappeared into the living room. Suddenly Mishima found himself alone in Akechi’s bedroom; he couldn’t help but wonder what sorts of things he could find hidden in drawers and stashed in the closet. The curiosity was mostly drowned out by nerves though, and he decided against snooping, heading instead straight into the bathroom.

Shutting the door behind him, he took a moment to collect his thoughts and reassure himself that this was indeed really happening. Once his breathing leveled out again, he lifted his shirt over his head and deposited it in a laundry hamper - empty, too clean - next to the door. His pants and, after a moment of hesitation and another steadying breath, his boxers followed suit, and once he was nude, he turned the shower on. He adjusted the water to a comfortable temperature before stepping under the steady stream. Akechi’s soaps and things were in a shower caddy hanging under the shower head. _Peach, hyacinth, sea foam?_ Mishima read the labels with a grin. Who know the young detective used such feminine scents?

As he washed himself, he took care to clean out the small scrapes on his knees and to scrub lightly over the healing bruises on his arms and chest. He sighed to himself as he took the time to clean some of his more sensitive parts, wincing at the tenderness that was still present from earlier in the night. Once he was finished, he lathered his hair thoroughly, and then finally just stood in the warm spray for a moment, watching the soap slide down the drain.

He decided that keeping Akechi waiting was probably a bad idea and shut the water off. Grabbing a towel from the rack just outside the shower, he stepped out onto a mat and began drying himself. Once he was no longer dripping wet, he headed out into the bedroom again, towel forgotten in the bathroom. After all, he knew why he was here; he had no time for modesty when it came to these things. However, once he saw just what that seemingly pleasant, innocent detective had laid out on the bed for him to wear, his eyes went wide and a dark flush crept onto his cheeks.

It was a silky, dark blue, _backless dress_. It was spaghetti strapped and short, like it might fall to about his mid-thigh. There was a post-it note stuck to it.

_There’s another ten thousand yen in it for you._   
_-A._

After removing the note, Mishima picked the thing up by the straps and debated. Honestly, what harm could it really do? He decided to put the damnable thing on after only a few minutes of deliberation. It slid over his head easily and fell a little shorter than he originally guessed it would. It fit snugly around his waist and was flat against his chest. Had Akechi been able to guess his size just from looking at him? If he weren’t so terribly embarrassed, he might have been almost impressed.

The dress was on, and Mishima decided to face the man waiting for him in the living room before he could think too hard about his current situation. He took one final cleansing breath, and opened the bedroom door. Reaching the end of the short hallway, he spied Akechi sitting on the couch, book in hand, paying him no mind whatsoever. Until, after a moment, he spoke.

“Sit down there, please.” Here he gestured to a dining chair that had been drug into the living room to his left. Mishima hesitated a moment before making his way to sit, eyes never leaving the brunet. He sat with his knees together and his hands in his lap, waiting.

Akechi continued to read for at least another full minute before reaching for the bookmark on the end table beside him. Once his page was marked, he shut the book and, finally, looked over to Mishima. His eyes roamed from his face to his slender neck, then down further to his chest and legs, covered in soft, light hairs. He cocked his head as he stood, approaching the seated boy. He said nothing now, simply running his still-gloved fingers up Mishima’s thigh. His fingers did not stop at the hem of the dress, and made their way up his chest, running over his right nipple before coming up to grab him by the chin. Akechi turned his head this way then that, inspecting him. Seemingly satisfied with what he saw, he released his jaw.

“Stand up for me.” Mishima hesitated a moment. “Now, Yuuki.”

Once the shorter boy complied, he continued, “Now turn around for me. Let me get a good look at you in this pretty little dress.” Mishima’s cheeks flushed, but he hurried to comply, rotating in his spot until his back was to Akechi. Hands were grabbing him by the waist, squeezing into his skin just a little, and then his back was flush with the other’s chest, Akechi’s breath hot on his ear.

“Kneel in the chair, Yuuki.” There was a gentle push on his waist, and he didn’t resist, letting the force press him forward onto his knees in the dining chair. If the way his foot brushed the inside of Akechi’s thigh bothered him, he certainly didn’t let it show.

“Put your hands here,” he instructed again, grabbing his wrists to direct his hands to the back of the chair in a way that forced him to arch his back. Suddenly, he was very aware of his lack of underwear, and his face heated up again at the thought of how he must look, bent over like this. An indignant noise escaped him when he felt a hand on the back of his thigh. Fingers traced softly over the skin there for a moment, making Mishima feel particularly sensitive. Suddenly, the hand on his thigh shot in between his legs to cup his cock. Mishima’s shoulders pulled tight, and his head shot up as another less than put-together noise left him. Akechi pressed into his side, hand still on his manhood, and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“Not hard yet, then? Let’s see if we can’t rectify that, hm?” Then Akechi pulled away, disappearing behind him. Mishima could hear footsteps and rustling, but no identifiable noises. Then Akechi was back, flipping his skirt up over his ass as he took a kneeling position behind him. A slick but _still gloved_ finger was probing at his entrance, and Mishima could hardly contain his noises already. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this.

Akechi took his time sliding that first finger in to its base, crooking it once before pulling back a little so he could thrust it back in. Mishima threw his head back and stopped trying to stifle his sounds, moaning softly as a second finger joined in.

“You’re just as loose as I imagined you would be. You really are a dirty little slut, huh. Already writhing and moaning so pretty for me,” Akechi said evenly, and Mishima had no idea how he was keeping his composure. There were teeth pressing into the soft flesh of the back of his thigh, and he was crying out again. The fingers pressing in and out of him picked up the pace, moving just right to brush his prostate with each thrust. His climax was approaching quickly enough, but then there was a second set of fingers caressing his cock under the front of his dress. Mishima was going to spill much quicker than he had intended. His toes curled and his back arched.

“A-A-Akechi-san! I-I’m-!”

And then everything stopped. He could feel the tears prickling at his eyes at the sudden loss of contact. He whined loudly and tried to press his ass back into Akechi’s hand, but he had already moved. He made his way to the couch and sat down. Mishima looked over at him with tears in his eyes. That was when he noticed that his fly was undone and his hard cock was resting against his still clothed stomach. Akechi noticed him staring and stroked himself once, slowly and deliberately. Something about the idea that this was bothering the unflappable Akechi as much as it was bothering him was unbearably arousing.

“Come here. Kneel beside me on the couch, little whore.” Akechi patted the cushion beside himself, other hand still resting idly on his dick. Mishima stood carefully because as much as he wanted to jump to comply, his legs felt like jello, and he did not want to fall. Shakily he made his way to join him on the couch. His mouth was watering at the sight before him. Akechi’s cock was just as perfect as the rest of him, and Mishima wanted nothing more than to _choke_ on it. The brunet must have read his posture.

“You want this in your mouth?” He chuckled in that infuriating way of his. “Beg for it.” Mishima whined. He was far too gone to be worried about appearances.

“Please, please let me… I want to suck your cock, Akechi-san. I want to please you so badly. Please, please, please!” The tears had never cleared from his eyes, and they threatened to spill over at the thought that Akechi might say no. As it was, he was touching his chin and pretending to consider.

“Get to it, then.”

Mishima had his head in Akechi’s lap before he was finished speaking, wrapping his lips around the head of his perfect cock and sucking. The noise Akechi made - a choked little grunt - was music to his ears, and it spurred him on. As a gloved hand slid into his hair, Mishima slid his mouth further down him, groaning around the mouthful. Suddenly, the hand tightened on his hair, seizing control of his movements and pressing his head down to fill his mouth until he gagged. Mishima wasn’t getting any air, but Akechi wasn’t easing up any. He held him there until he was satisfied and then pulled him all the way up to eye level.

“Come here,” he practically growled, pulling Mishima forward by the back of his neck. He ended up sitting in Akechi’s lap with his legs out to one side so that his side was pressed against the taller boy’s chest. Then the detective did something he did not expect; one arm reached under his legs and the other curled around his waist, and Akechi picked Mishima just a few inches up off his lap. He was much stronger than he looked, to be certain. Very carefully, he positioned the younger boy’s entrance just above his waiting cock and lowered him down, impaling him.

Cries spilled from him as Mishima was slowly being filled. He felt like he might genuinely weep at the sense of relief that washed over him, and he slumped against Akechi’s chest as he bottomed out, allowing him to manipulate and manhandle him in whatever way he wished. Akechi took advantage of this to set up a brutal pace, lifting and lowering the smaller boy over and again, reveling in all of the filthy sounds spewing from his lips.

“I want you to… come just like… this. You will come… untouched, just from being… fucked like this…” Akechi grunted out through clenched teeth. He changed his position a little, shifting so Mishima rested mostly against his chest. He used his right arm to cradle him there, while his free hand made its way to the other’s throat. He squeezed until the noises stopped. Mishima made panicked eye contact with him but did not fight him, letting him choke him. The shift in position meant that every movement made Akechi’s cock press into his sweet spot at just the right angle. He could comply easily with Akechi’s demands this time, for sure. He wouldn’t need him to touch him; he was already teetering on the edge of his orgasm for the second time that night. He just prayed Akechi would not steal it from him again.

“Fuck. Fu-fuck. Are you close, huh?” Akechi loosed his grip on Mishima’s throat to let him speak, but he could only nod as he gasped the air back into his burning lungs.

“I’m gonna fucking-” he groaned and bit into the juncture of the smaller boy’s neck and shoulder as he came, pressing himself in to the hilt. The pain shooting through his neck and the sight of the other losing himself sent Mishima slamming into his climax as well. He practically screamed as his vision went white, and he absolutely ruined the dress he was wearing.

Akechi panted into Mishima’s ear, still inside of him as he came down.

“You should know,” he mumbled into his hair, “if you ever tell anyone about this, I know how to make it look like a suicide.”

\-------

Mishima was allowed to sleep on the couch that night, and as he was gathering his clothes the next morning, Akechi had him again bent over his bed. When he had finished, he handed 100,000 yen to Mishima, telling him it “should just about cover it.” Mishima was on the train home when he picked up Akira’s check-up call.

**Author's Note:**

> YO I'M BACK BITCHES.  
> Also, I have an ask blog for this 'verse now.  
> ask-rentboy-mishima.tumblr.com  
> I do rp, too, so.


End file.
